


Walkin' up a Tightrope

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2006-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: For Cliche Week at rps_advent. My prompt was "huddling for warmth".





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**walkin' up a tightrope.**  
RPS. Jsquared. NC-17. 1375 words. Warnings for some language and smut. For Cliché Week at [ ](http://community.livejournal.com/rps_advent/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/rps_advent/)**rps_advent**. My prompt was "huddling for warmth". Love to Kate, because when I was flailing about like OMG I NEED TO PORN BY TOMORROW and OMG I THINK I'M BROKEN, she gave me hugs and kisses and made it work. Also, love to my very favorite two boys, who, though I hope to god will never read this, did inspire the mitten dueling. Even if they were gloves at the time. ♥ Title from the Wallflowers.  
  
  
The night Sandy leaves him, Jared shows up on Jensen's doorstep without a coat and shivering like a bitch. He's got snow in his hair, and he doesn't say hi, hello, hey. He just stands at the threshold and waits.  
  
So Jensen does what any best friend would. He invites Jared in, and then he gets him as drunk as humanly possible. He makes sure Jared's on the couch before he passes out, 'cause he's fallen asleep drunk at tables before and his back always hurt like hell in the morning, and he throws the biggest blanket he can find over Jared's body. He almost, _almost_ has the urge to tuck him in.  
  
Jensen sleeps with his windows open, which Jared keeps telling him is contradictory as hell since he spends all his waking hours complaining about how cold it is in Canada. Jensen fights back with mostly bullshit statistics, goes on about air circulation and cites a million different studies that say it's good for you, and by the time he has to really explain anything, Jared's bored and moved on to the next thing.  
  
It's snowing outside and so tonight, the window's just barely cracked, but he left the door wide open so he'd hear if Jared managed to squish himself under his own giant self and died or something, and Jared's still stuck on Texas weather. He stumbles half-asleep and still drunk into the bedroom at about three in the morning and mumbles something that sounds like _mv'over_.  
  
"Dude," Jensen groans, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Time is it?"  
  
"Don't care. S'fucking _cold_ , Jen. Why's the window open?"  
  
"Could get you another blanket."  
  
"Couch is too small. Move over; bed's big enough. I don't take up that much room."  
  
Jensen snorts, incredulous, but he shifts nearer the edge of the bed. "Better not hog the covers." Jared yawns in response, but he laughs, too, and that's good. Laughter's good. "Go to sleep," Jen tells him. "You're gonna have a bitch of a headache in the morning."  
  
Jared groans. "I'm never waking up. Ever." He rolls heavily onto his side, turning his back, and three seconds later, he's asleep. Four seconds after that, he's tugging the bedspread towards himself, and all the energy Jensen's got in him isn't good enough to keep them on the right half of the bed.  
  
::  
  
A week later, the heat goes out on set. The crew bring in tiny space heaters and everyone huddles. The directors conceded to only inside shots and do takes ten minutes at a time. Jared refuses to do anything longer if he can't wear gloves and fluffy earmuffs. He says there's a pink pair in his bag. It's really very Sam, he says.  
  
Jensen's got a paper cup of hot chocolate in his mittened hands when Jared makes it back to the heater, so there's not much he can do when Jared starts stealing his marshmallows. He lets Jared take three before he starts to protest, a grumbled, "Dude, _get your own_."  
  
Jared huffs a laugh. "Too damn cold to move. 'Sides, yours're convenient." He snatches another before Jensen can stop him, popping it into his mouth and letting it melt on his tongue.  
  
"Bitch," Jen mutters, vindictive. He tips his head back and swallows down the rest of his drink and all the marshmallows before Jared can get to them.  
  
::  
  
For winter episodes, Jared tries to make snowballs with the fake snow, and Jensen uses those same mittens – stained, now, with cocoa at one of the wrists – to smack him in the face, just on principle.  
  
"What, you challenging me to a duel?" Jared grins and snaps the mitten out of Jen's hand. Swats back. "You're on, dude. Rapiers at the break of dawn?"  
  
"You haven't got a clue what that means."  
  
Jared punches him in the side, just hard enough to make his point. "I took French three years in high school, man. Made the honor roll. 'Course I know what that means."  
  
::  
  
On the twenty-third, their flight is canceled and the night before Christmas, Jensen's sleeping on Jared's couch drunk off the goddamn eggnog with flour in his hair. Jared insisted on cookies.  
  
They burned both batches but ate them all anyway, alternately watching TV and bitching about how pizza's not delivering on account of the storm. Pussies.  
  
Early Christmas morning, Jared ushers Jensen to his bed, mumbling something about pneumonia and how he doesn't wanna fill out the paperwork if he's gotta take Jensen to the hospital, so do me a favor and get in. At least it's warm.  
  
Late Christmas morning, they both forgot to get presents and Jared burns the pancakes. He sets off the smoke alarm and Jensen, smug and smiling, apologizes for him to the whole complex once everyone's rushed outside for fire.  
  
::  
  
It all starts the same.  
  
They're kinda drunk and they're cold and there's one bed and Jensen was smart enough to bring extra blankets this time, but he didn't know they wouldn't need them.  
  
Jared rolls his hips, his hard-on hot against Jensen's thigh. "Come on," he says. "Come on, Jen, what's stopping us?"  
  
Good fucking question, and he knows there are answers, lots of answers, but he can't think of a single one. Jensen's hands are cold and his toes are freezing, but Jared's warm and kissing his mouth, pushing with his tongue, hooking his fingers at the nape of Jen's neck.  
  
"I haven't," Jensen says, uncoordinated, trying to remember the words like they're lyrics to a song he used to know. "I don't—"  
  
"God," Jared groans, understanding. He pushes his hand under Jensen's shirt and presses into the dips between his ribs. He looks Jen in the eyes and says, "Tell me okay." Like Jensen knows how to tell him no.  
  
He nearly splits his lip when they kiss, teeth clicking and a messy jumble that feels like being fifteen and confused, worried about what to do with his hands, his tongue, until Jared laughs. "C'mon," he says. "Man, help me out here. Least move or somethin'."  
  
Jensen grins, crooked. "Maybe I don't wanna move."  
  
"Don't _have_ to move. Wanna suck you." Jared licks at Jen's throat. "Can I?"  
  
Jesus Christ.  
  
"Yeah," Jen says, his head thumping back on the pillow. "God, yes."  
  
Jared doesn't wait for anything else. Jensen's shirt goes up and his shorts go down, and the covers end up mostly on the floor once Jared's fingers dig into Jen's hips and his lips wrap around Jensen's cock.  
  
It's not like it's _profound_ or anything. It's a blowjob, plain and simple. Definitely not the worst but probably not the best. Maybe, though, it might be the shortest since Jensen was about seventeen.  
  
He forgets all about the cold, 'cause he'd have to be crazy to be thinking about the weather, especially like this, when he can feel the back of Jared's throat against the head of his dick. Jared drops one hand from Jensen's hipbone to down between his legs, and a dry fingertip traces the edge of his rim.  
  
Jensen bucks up hard and Jared halfway chokes, but he keeps right on going. Jen's hand settles into Jared's hair just soon enough to pull him away, biting off some incoherent warning the second before he comes. He's not sure that he doesn't lose a few minutes' consciousness there, but when he can think again, he opens his eyes and Jared's pushing into his space, panting hot against his shoulder and neck, one hand on his own cock.  
  
Talking would ruin it, so Jensen doesn't say a word. He locks his fingers around Jared's wrist and tugs his hand away, replacing it with his own. It's takes Jared longer but not long before he's spilling over Jensen's fingers, trying to say something, but all of his words melt together into a moan, and then he's left silent and limp, curling into Jensen's side.  
  
The fucking window's still open, and the wind kicks up a little, like a reminder. Jensen's not sure what of, but Jared gets it, loud and clear.  
  
"Man," he yawns. "Get us a blanket. Fucking freezing in here." Rolling over, he mumbles, "And don't hog the covers, okay?"  
 


End file.
